The Bicycle Drive

October 18, 2006

When I was small, I only drive my bike when I’m sad. The swoosh effect of the streaming air to my ear and my face grants a temporary break of happiness that I cannot articulate even until now. I had this regular itinerary which passes through streets which had no dogs and cars in the neighborhood. It was a circuitous route that I can even close my eyes and not kill anything on my way. I would usually make five rounds in one drive. But it was strange that every cycle is different from the other four. And since no one was left at home but my Yaya, I would drive some more cycles just to find the subtlest differences of every drive. Of course I would not be able to recognize them but I know something has changed.

This afternoon, I drove around the campus and that same quizzical feeling from youth devoured me again. I guess I haven’t changed much after all. I still drive the bicycle only when I am sad and I still can notice that weird impression that something has changed every time.

But what has changed? Was it the natural arrangement of the tree canopies swaying with the unpredictable, playful winds? Was it the color of the sky that has darkened as the sun chases the night? Was it the number of people that I get ahead of as I speed through them? Or maybe it was I who has changed?

But I don’t think I did. Or I ever did.

I would like to believe Diana when she said that I haven’t changed much since my 5th birthday. Take the hair color away and you still look the same, she said.

I know. And beyond the physical, I haven’t changed much I guess.

I still dream of becoming a writer someday. I always wanted to write when I was very young. Churches still give me that feeling that I am home. I grew up in a little town where the church is on the next block from our house. I still like walking at night on streets made wet by the late afternoon shower just like how the way my mom would bring me to the plaza at night. I still cherish things like nightfall silence which I grew up with back in the province. I still consider those foods cooked by my mom with so much effort and yet still taste bland as the best things on earth. I still stick out my tongue at people I like. I still bring my head out sometimes when I ride the jeepneys because I think it is exhilarating thing to do.

I still cut out articles that I have read and liked just like how I do when I was ten. I still write my most important prayers on a notebook. I still sleep with the just-before-sign-off songs on my radio. I still keep crap things like doodles on papers, candy wrappers and post-its on an envelope and not throw them away because they would serve my memory later. I still consider Tom and Jerry the best thing that ever happened on television and that Cartoon Network is for adults too. I still enjoy doing things alone just like how I did things on my first ten years on earth.

Maybe I have lost some innocence but I still think that people never wishes harm to other people. I still consider myself as a dreamer and that times are hard for people like me. I still believe that somebody is also waiting for me somewhere just like during prep school. I still believe that in order to be happy is to entirely forget happiness but enjoy it.

And maybe, driving a bike changes me a bit every time. But I guess it simply arranges the clutter of this life that I never get tired of complicating.